The Ara-Best Moment of My Musical Journey

For the majority of my musical career, both academic and recreationally, I have cursed my ears and wished for nothing but improvement. I meet people who can hear a guitar riff and play it on any instrument the find themselves in front of, or I listen to a new song with a friend and they laugh at a chord progression that I am nearly oblivious too, and the list goes on and on of instances where I whole-heartedly wish I could hear something more than just a mesh of sound when I listen to music. Through every realization I run into, however, I am always caught asking myself why I would need to hear music with any more detail than I already do. It would undoubtedly improve my skill as a musician, but there is something very intimate and appealing about having the ability to under-analyze and simply enjoy music.

When it comes to listening and how grateful I am that I have ears in general, I will always cherish the first time I heard a performance of Sam Hazo’s “Arabesque.” My seventh grade year took place in 2011, but I usually refer to it as the year Kingman High School turned me into a lifetime band geek. Kingman was my hometown, and while I never liked the sound of that, I found a way to love the sound of our High School concert band. During a festival performance in town, I was lucky enough to be in the middle school band that played before Kingman High. I remember being as much of a seventh grader as anyone else there and running back and forth ignoring my surroundings after my band played. I remember the sound of my friends laughing while they hid band members’ cases from them while we packed up, and I remember hearing the High School band director in the hall announcing his band, but as soon as the flute player laid into her solo to begin “Arabesque,” I forgot what planet I was on. The conviction that these kids not much older than me could convey, the emotion behind every note; it was like being inside the composer’s head. I listened to the low brass thunder and boom their way through sections and the woodwinds run up and down scales I never knew existed, and I knew for a fact that any life without music was one I could never be interested in.

I have been lucky enough to perform Hazo’s “Arabesque” once, and I doubt I will ever willingly perform it again. The sound that I have associated with the piece is sacred to me, and as my ears develop I would hate to over analyze something that pushed me to be the musician I am today. I still have the program from that event, and just looking at it gives my ears more joy than perfect pitch ever could.